


Well, I Hate to be a Bother

by MoonyMcMoon



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Jonathan Crane being nice, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic, Southern Jonathan Crane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24233590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonyMcMoon/pseuds/MoonyMcMoon
Summary: Everyone doesn't like being sick. Specially Edward.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	Well, I Hate to be a Bother

**Author's Note:**

> Something I worked on in the last few months. It was supposed to be a oneshot but it may end up being two chapters. I was sick when I started this as a way of venting off my horrid cold. Anyway enjoy!

The room was quiet besides the shuffling of paper from Jonathan who was organizing his notes for his toxin in hopes of improving its effectiveness. The room he worked in was dim; lit just enough for him to see but not bright enough to where it gave him an aching migraine. 

And yet, something was off. Jonathan knew this. 

However, he could not pinpoint it, which annoyed him a good deal. Everything work wise was going splendid in his case. Even Batman himself was absent. Could it be lack of food? Probably, but he was fairly used to not eating for long periods of time, so why was this different? The quiet? Jon glanced over at his phone, usually having it blown up by now. No messages. That bothered him. He preferred not to be bothered of course, but it was unusual. What was off about not having messages? Give, he had plenty of the others’ numbers, but they never texted or called him unless it was an emergency. Why did not having messages seem so strange?

A vibration from the phone he’d been staring at finally went off, as if reading his mind. Jon picked it up and answered.

“Hiya Dr. Crane!”

It was Harley.

“What do you need?” he asked, rubbing his eyes and already starting to feel the dull ache from staring so much in the dim room.

“I was just going to ask if you heard from Eddie today. He hasn’t texted me back.”

Jon paused. That’s why it felt quiet. Edward hasn’t blasted his phone with his random ranting.

“I have not heard from him.”

“I was wonderin’ if you’d check up on him? I can send you his address.”

“If you have his address, why can’t you check on him?” Jon grunted, not really wanting to go out.

“Cause I’m busy!”

“And you think I’m not?”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be a pleasant surprise for you to visit!”

Jon didn’t know what it was, but he  _ was _ feeling curious about the silence from Ed. Even if he was plotting something, he always let someone know, leading to the knowledge of knowing whether Ed ended up back in Arkham or not.

“Fine.” Jon said.

  
  


Edward opened his eyes, but it barely felt like he could. It almost hurt. He attempted to shift in his bed, only to realize he ached all over. The room was dim, (to be fair it was morning), but Ed still felt tired, instead of the usual active energy he got in the mornings. His mouth was dry, and he went to swallow, only to feel a horrible pain. He whimpered and forced his eyes open more. He pushed himself to swallow a few more times, each one aching. His entire body felt tired and sore and he didn’t want to get up, but he did anyway. The floor under him was cold as he weakly maneuvered his way to his kitchen for water. Edward could barely focus or stay completely there, his balance a little off.  _ Please tell me I’m not sick and it's just a little thing this morning _ … He pleaded in his mind. Moving to the bathroom, he checked the mirror cabinet for a thermometer and shoved it in his mouth begrudgingly.

_ Beep. Beep. _

98.3F

Okay, no fever, that was good.

“Have to have some Dayquil somewhere…” he mumbled, looking more into his cabinets while pushing other meds and such aside. He found what he was looking for and went ahead and shot it. Weakly, he moved back to the kitchen and finished another glass of water, before taking a third back to his room. Edward curled under the blankets, and settled back into bed. 

He closed his eyes, but no relief came.He was tired, but couldn’t fall back asleep. He yawned, only to flinch from the throat pain. He had so much to do and he could tell this was going to set him back a few days. Colds usually weren’t so bad. This however, felt like actual hell to Edward. And just when things couldn’t get any worse, the headaches began. The poor man looked around his room, desperately searching for some form of relief. He tried to get the room to be as dark as possible and avoided heavy movements as he dove gently back into the safety of the covers. Was it odd to be craving physical affection right about now? 

He hated this.

Colds always made his mind feel like cotton and he could never think straight. Usually, being sick led him to have horrible nightmares and sometimes, though rarely, hallucinations. All minor, but not fun either way. Edward was almost always lonely and bored when he was sick. He felt a deep heaviness laying back on him as he finally started going back to sleep. His body shook faintly causing him to huddle under the covers more. Patting gently behind him, until he felt a familiar stuffed friend that he pulled to him. A little stuffed fox. More comfortable and content now, Edward allowed himself to try and fall back asleep.

Edward felt heavy. Sleepy but not asleep. Eyes heavy but still not asleep. Eyes close but still not asleep. He hated the mixed feelings sickness gave him. Maybe it was the medicine he took. He huddled more under the blankets, feeling safe and protected from any attempting chill in the air. How can one be so tired and yet somehow not manage to fall back asleep? He woke back up an hour ago, and yet felt like he wanted to go right back to sleep. The hallucinations were already forming. Again, nothing major. More so of the ‘unreliable from the corner of your eye’ types. He wasn’t frightened or bothered. If anything, he was just annoyed and wanted his illness to dissipate already.

He turned in bed, holding his stuffed fox closer to him in frustration. His stomach growled loudly and he groaned. He was too tired to get up and eat. It wasn’t like anyone was going to make him anything, anyway. Another inconvenience of being sick, nobody to take care of him. Never happened when he was younger, and it seemed like it wouldn’t be a possibility now either. Ed’s eyes began to shut again and for a moment he thought he would manage to fall back asleep. However, he was still aware of his surroundings. The hum of the AC, the almost static noise of the outside, and the gentle thumping down the hallway.

A creak had Ed’s eyes open slowly. He should be alarmed but his cotton filled mind thought that maybe this was just another sick hallucination.

“Edward?”

Edward sat up some and glanced over his shoulder peering into the dark seeing the figure but not quite his features. He was tall. This had to be another hallucination or maybe a dream.

“Death? Oh finally, end my suffering.” he stated in a hoarse voice.

The figure mumbled something but walked a little closer and Edward’s blurry sleep eyes still couldn’t put everything together.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d actually be that hot, like, I mean it’s cool you’re not only a skeleton.”

Jon was incredibly unsure whether to be concerned or maybe chuckle at the fact that Edward was in such a state. The man was practically absorbed in blankets galore, in the darkest room possible.

“Edward, it’s Jonathan.” He said.

The other practically shot from the bed in alarm.

“Oh my God, what are you doing in my room?” Edward asked, startled, but his voice clearly scratchy.

“Harley asked me to come check on you, we haven’t heard from you all day.”

“Ah, the sweetheart. I’m sick, so sorry to worry her. I’m sure it was nice to not hear from me for you huh Jon?”

Jonathan raised a brow and the tired tone of voice. Edward really looked like hell. The usually bright, almost flawless man had tired eyes, pale skin, and the messiest Jon had seen of Ed’s hair, which was usually neat.

“Actually,” Jon began softly, but waved it off.

Edward genuinely looked surprised.

“W–...Well thanks for checking on me, but I’m fine—” Edward’s growling stomach cut him off, leaving a tint of red on the Riddling man’s cheeks.

“Have you not eaten?” Jon asked.

“…Not yet, no.”

Jon sighed. He didn’t understand why he was doing this, but he was doing this.

“I could make you somethin’,” he offered.

“Are you sure? You’re not sick, are you Jonathan?” Ed joked.

When Jon didn’t seem to respond right away, Ed relaxed.

“…I think I have stuff for soup...”

Jon nodded and walked out of the room to go figure out the other’s kitchen. He’d never say it, but he knew how to make a damn good chicken soup.

Edward was screaming internally. Especially the moment he realized that it was not indeed Death in his room but someone close to it. Jonathan was the last person he ever thought would check up on him, but he wouldn’t complain. Ed’s wishes of having someone help take care of him were coming true, even if it was the quietest and scariest person he knew.

Edward lied back down and carefully shoved the fox farther under the covers. He didn’t need Jon discovering it and teasing him about it. It was the last thing he’d ever want is for someone to ridicule the one piece of good shit he has. After what felt like years, Jon returned with two bowls and allowed Ed to sit up and handed one of the bowls to him.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

Jon dragged a desk chair from part of the room and placed it near the bed. Sitting and joining in with Ed on lunch. Ed could barely taste or smell the soup, but it still was probably the best thing he’s had for a while. And it felt wonderful on his throat.

“Thanks for making me something, I didn’t really expect you to do that”

“Neither did I.” Jon said, noticing Edward was practically halfway done. He must have been hungry.

“You don’t have to stick around, being sick is not fun.”

Jon had to travel all the way here, he might as well make the most of it. Also, it seemed Edward couldn’t manage to at least feed himself.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Edward didn’t respond and instead stared into his bowl.

“I’ll leave if you want me- “

“No” Edward interrupted. “No, I’d think I’d like company…”

Jon leaned back in his chair, crossing his leg over the other, finishing off the soup. “Alright then, is there anything else you need?”

Ed thought for a moment. “No, not right now. I just want to sleep…”

Jon nodded and took the finished bowls. “Well I guess call for me if you need anything.”

“…There’s uh… a bookshelf in the living room, if you get bored...” Ed mumbled tucking himself back under the covers, but noticed Jon light up a bit at the mention of books, and closed his eyes as he watched the taller exit the room.

Nausea overwhelmed Edward as he opened his eyes again. It was darker than it was before. From what little light shone through the curtains, he only assumed he slept through the day. Bleh. He sat up, body sore, stomach starting to feel bad. He grumbled hoarsely, his mind still fuzzy and groggy, which he despised. Carefully crawling from his nest of blankets, he touched the cold floor and shakily made his way to the bathroom. The nausea felt horrible, and his vision spun as he leaned his shoulder against the wall sliding. When he got to the bathroom, he dared not look at himself in the mirror, knowing he probably looked like shit. Ed dropped to his knees over the toilet grumbling, and waiting for something to hit him. The stinging acid feeling rose to his throat.

Throwing up isn’t fun, and Ed hates it no matter how much it makes him feel better. There goes the soup…wait, was Jonathan still here? He might have left if Ed was asleep all day. Ed flushed the toilet and leaned over the sink and brushed his teeth, working every possible way to get the gross taste out of his mouth. As soon as he was done he went to return to bed, when,

“Edward-”

“AH FUCKING HELL” Ed screamed, bumping into Jon. “Christ, Jonathan, you scared the shit out of me!”

He noticed the taller man trying not to smirk, but Ed could still tell he found it funny.

“Did you…hm”

“What?”

Jonathan placed the back of his hand against Ed’s forehead, taking the riddling man completely by surprise.

“Ed, when’s the last time you took your temperature?”

“This morning…why?”

“You’re burning up.”

“Really? I feel rather cold actually…”

Jon walked to Ed’s bedroom and returned with the thermometer and shoved it into Ed’s mouth without warning. Ed gave a glare in response but waited.

_ Beep. Beep. _

Jonathan took it back out, before Ed could look, and gave a stern glare.

“103.5. Bed.”

“Wh-”

“Bed, Edward.”

Ed was too tired to argue but still scowled making his way back to bed.  _ Who gave him permission to parent me?  _ He thought, annoyed. He had just gotten back in the bed when Jon came in with a glass of water, and what looked like Tylenol. The older shoved the medicine in Ed’s hand and stared at him expectantly. Ed took it without complaint and sipped the water, cringing at the weird taste of the medicine.

“You know you don’t have to take care of me, I’m a fully grown adult, Jonathan.”

Jon didn’t respond and instead quietly tugged the blankets over Ed. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Why are you being so nice? You don’t usually act like this around me, what is up with you?”

“I’m feeling particularly generous, just go to sleep”

“Where are you going to sleep, genius?” Ed scowled.

“The couch, obviously.”

Clearly, Ed did not like that answer.

“You are _ NOT _ sleeping on the couch, it’s not meant for sleeping, I can get the spare-”

“Ed, you are not in any condition to try and host. I’ve slept on worse things my whole life, just go the fuck to sleep.”

Edward couldn’t have ignored the southern accent slipping through in that moment more than trying to ignore how bad the Joker’s jokes were. Ed was well aware of where Jonathan was from but decided to not ever bring it up over the fact that he was sure Jon would have killed him where he stood. Jon must have not cared in that moment, so Ed just pushed it aside, but he wouldn’t lie; he did like the southern accent on the older man. It just seemed fitting. Ed shuffled himself back under the blankets as directed and watched Jon sigh and start his way out of the room.

“The spare room is past the kitchen down the hall. Bed should be made already.”

“…Thank you.”

Jonathan walked to the room Edward had brought up. The room itself was simple, much to the man’s relief. Ed was a person of major theatrics and showing off. The room was basic, but the bed was large for a spare room. He hadn’t planned on staying the night, but it felt very wrong to just leave Ed like this. Ed could manage by himself, as he was an adult, but Jon felt this compelling urge to stick around and help him. Was it some inner empathy he didn’t think he had left? Probably. Jon could deal with that later.

Ed was quite the man of quality. Jon wasn’t kidding when he said he’s slept on worse things, those things mostly being wooden floors, concrete floors and Arkham’s cell beds. The bed however was probably the softest thing Jon had laid on in a while and he wouldn’t start complaining now. He laid back in thought, still not quite sure why he was here but he didn’t quite dislike it. Jon would never admit to Ed that he was rather envious of the whole, having the money to do things, sort of life he was going off on. He would also never admit at how surprised he was that Ed knew more about him then he’d ever let on. Especially on how much Jonathan loves his books. The mentioning of a bookshelf made Jon quite giddy and Edward did have quite the good selection of books, even some Jon hadn’t read before. Jonathan took his glasses off and set them on the nightstand before properly undressing to sleep. He didn’t realize how much Ed noticed his personality and interests, all without really discussing him. He knew Ed was smart, the puzzle man wouldn’t let anyone ever forget, but Ed was also observant and better at it than most detectives or therapists. Ed knew how much Jon enjoyed books, and how much he preferred more simpler things. Jon almost found it admirable at the extent Ed took to learn about him without really bothering him about it. Refreshing even.

Edward was clever. Jon couldn’t deny this fact no matter how much he’d argue over it. Edward wasn’t stupid in the slightest. Now, he could  _ choose _ to do stupid things and know that they are indeed stupid things. Jonathan got under the covers. It was very soft and warm. For once Jon felt himself drifting closer to a more comforting and peaceful sleep. The last thought that crossed his mind was the realization of how much Jon was truly thinking about this man.

Much to the dismay of both men, the night was not peaceful. Ed had woken up, from a very dizzying nightmare. Sick dreams and nightmares were  _ always _ the weirdest and most uncomfortable ones. Ed felt sweaty and gross, and surprisingly scared. He couldn’t pinpoint why he felt so scared and couldn’t remember the nightmare.

“Where is it?” he mumbled, dryly patting under the hoard of blankets; relief swept over him upon finding the little stuffed fox. He held it close, trying to collect himself and reached to sip more of the water that Jon had brought him earlier. He squinted at the clock and saw that it was only 2:23 AM. Ed kicked himself from under the blankets feeling too hot and let the cool air hit against him. The overwhelming urge to take a bath and just clean up was strong but his brain and body both were telling him that he had absolutely zero energy to even think about that idea. Pulling the fox closer to his chest, he felt small again. The dark felt large around him and somehow reminded him too much of being younger. Ed tried closing his eyes to see if he could slip himself back into sleep, but his stomach begged to differ. He hadn’t really eaten since the soup. It wasn’t quite the plan to have a flu rather than cold. And it felt so much worse than a cold would have. Ed really didn’t want to move, especially not through the dark. Logically, turning on the light would be a fantastic idea, but he didn’t want to alarm or bother Jonathan at this time of night, if he even fell asleep at all. Groaning, he sat up and carefully hid the fox back under the blankets just in case Jonathan was up. Ed’s whole body felt clammy and gross and the floor was freezing, as he felt his way out of the bedroom and headed to his kitchen. Ed memorized his house enough that even in the dark he could avoid tripping or bumping into anything. However, a swift slam of his pinky toe into the arch opening to the kitchen said otherwise, and Ed clamped his hand over his mouth before he could shout in pain.

“ _ Son of a bitch _ ” he hissed into his palm and waited a moment for the pain to subside.

Ed entered his kitchen and went to the cupboard and flicked on the small light in and began to look for something to eat. He’d have to pick out something quickly because he felt dizzy, and the light was a little too bright for his fuzzy mind to process. He grabbed the box of the chewy granola bars and took two before turning the light off and stumbling back through the house like some 3-year-old toddler in the night. Ed got back into bed and started to eat the granola bars, quietly sighing and hoping these would stay down. Tossing the wrappers on the nightstand, Ed crawled back under the covers and grabbed for the fox. He sighed gently and immediately drifted back into a weird sleep.

The next morning Jonathan walked into Ed’s room to check on him, seeing him snoring away under his nest of blankets and pillows. He didn’t want to wake him up, as he knew that sleeping helps a lot when you’re sick. Jon left the Tylenol on the nightstand and took note of the granola wrappers. Ed must have gotten a late-night snack.  _ Doesn’t surprise me. _ He folded his arms and glanced over the riddling man. He had the blankets tucked right up under his chin, honestly looking comfortable, but it seemed a little hot. Jon reached to feel the others forehead before stopping.

Why in the world was he mothering this man? Harley had only asked to check up on Edward and yet he just stayed. Jon wondered if he should just gather up and leave? Edward said he’d like the company, but Jon wasn’t sure if that was worth getting sick. If Jon gets sick, he will actually need somebody to care for him because he doesn’t have the strongest immune system. As he battled over his choice, he still felt Ed’s forehead and the other seemed to sleepily press against it, sighing content. Jon pulled back immediately and simply walked out of the room.

Waking up was still incredibly unpleasant. Ed whined as his aching body shifted and he made attempts to open his eyes which were heavy, and the wave of sleep was trying to wash back over him. Feeling a twitch in his nose he woke up and sat up to sneeze into his arm. It was those sneezes that made you feel like you threw out your whole back, and feeling the stinging in his throat made it all worse. He turned to his nightstand, seeing the Tylenol and slapped around for it. He honestly didn’t want to get up. Ed sat up, but only a bit.

“Jon?”

No response.

“Jonathan?”

Nothing.

Ed pressed back against the pillows, feeling disheartened. The logical conclusion was Jon had finally left. It was around lunch, and Jon usually worked on schedule so there was a high chance that he upped and left him. Ed sighed and then huffed, forcing himself to sit back up and try and go make himself something to drink to take with the Tylenol. This was fine, he didn’t need Jon there. It’s not like he’s alone constantly anyway. Ed stopped at his bedroom door, feeling himself get dizzy.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

Ed jumped and smacked his elbow against the door frame, cussing. Jonathan was in front of him holding a plate of…lots of scrambled eggs and a cup. Edward didn’t say anything but silently went back to his bed, Jon following him.

“The more you get up the harder it’ll be to handle a fever, just stay in bed.”

Ed silently took the plate of eggs and watched as Jon walked back out.

“Jon?”

“Hm?”

“Where are you going?”

“I need to grab something.”

“Are you coming back?”

“That was the plan, why?”

“Nothing.”

Jon continued to walk out, and Ed sighed eating the eggs.  _ Ugh, they’re cold. _ Ed grumbled, even though he couldn’t taste anything, or smell for that matter. He was incredibly frustrated at the lack of his senses and the fuzz of his mind. He wanted to do things, he HAD to do things, or he’d lose it. Ed hoped Jon was gone at this point and got up from bed. He was at least gonna find things to take back to bed with him so he wouldn’t be bored. There had to be some left-over puzzle books somewhere! He needed to keep his mind entertained. Ignoring the feeling of sweat against his head, auburn hair sticking to him, he looked over in his little corner of puzzles, crosswords, sudoku, and the like. Nothing. They were filled. Not even one puzzle left. Curse his puzzle nature. Ed stood up, but maybe a little too quickly. He gripped onto the shelves of the bookcase trying to breath and balance himself. Stupid fever, stupid everything, he hates, hates,  _ hates _ , being sick! Grumbling, exhausted, and annoyed, Ed crawled back in his bed and grabbed his phone to see if there was anything entertaining there that wasn’t god awful  _ Candy Crush _ .

When Jon returned, he noticed the mess in the corner over by the bookshelves almost immediately. His main assumption was that Edward didn’t listen and got out of bed again. Whatever, nothing else seemed to be a mess, the man probably was bored. If Jon knew any great detail about Ed was that he was a very active person. He needed to be doing something, anything to make him focus or have his hands move. Being sick is not ideal for the riddling man; any of the rogues knew this. That’s why, out of the kindness of his lukewarm heart, Jon got Edward something. The taller man walked to Ed’s room again to find him tangled in the sheets, foot dangling off the side of the bed, tapping away at his phone. It was a pretty amusing sight, actually. Jon tossed the bag beside Ed’s bed making the sick man jolt.

“For fuck’s sake, Jon.”

Jon gave a smug smile but gestured to the bag. Ed picked it up and his demeanor changed very quickly. There was a whole thing of puzzle books of different types. Ed’s eyes widened with childish excitement, even though he knew he could finish these books quickly.

“Thank you!”

“Yeah, if it keeps you in bed. Quicker this shit ends, the quicker things go back to normal.” Jon muttered, before dropping a bag of fast food on his lap and circling to leave the room once again.

Ed couldn’t help but flinch at the remark. “You don’t have to be here, Jonathan, if you want normal you could just stop? I don’t even know why you’re doing nice things for me if it’s such an inconvenience to you.”

Jon didn’t say anything but walked out of the room, and then a solid slam from a door. Ed wasn’t sure what this whole fiasco was, but he begrudgingly ate bland fast food that Jon got. Ed set things aside and grabbed his little stuffed fox and held it up.

“You’re not a manipulative jerk, aren’t you?”

Sighing, he dropped his arms and the fox on his chest. “I’m too sick and tired to deal with whatever mind game Jonathan has going on-”

“ _ You sleep with a stuffed animal? _ ”

Edward almost felt his soul leave his frail, sore body as he noticed Jon back in the room staring at him. Ed didn’t say anything but looked from the fox to Jon, back to the fox and slowly pushing the fox under the blankets. Great now he was embarrassed.

“Why do you have a stuffed animal, Nygma? Aren’t you in your 30’s?”

Ed didn’t have a witty response, or a way of correcting Jon. He stared, almost expecting the taller man to come over and steal his comfort item right out of his hands. Ed didn’t like anyone knowing about his comfort item, for personal and professional reasons. He couldn’t tell if it was from being sick or from being vulnerable.

“Edward.”

“H-huh?”

“What’s its name?”

“Wh- the fox?”

“Yes.” Jon said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh uh… It's just Foxy.”

“Looks in good shape, how old is it?”

Ed gripped the fox’s arm some. “Since… I was little…”

“A childhood stuffed animal? Sounds like you.”

“How so?”

“You’re a nostalgic person, I notice you keep a lot of older things, like the finished puzzle books.”

“Don’t tell anyone…”

“I won’t but frankly, who’s gonna give a shit?”

Ed didn’t respond but he squeezed the fox. “I thought you left.”

“I did but I decided to come back cause frankly with how often you tend to get up despite a fever is rather concerning. I do not need to have a friend dead in their own home from being ill.”

Ed smirked a bit. “Aww, you care about me Jonny?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You didn’t say no!”

“Listen do you want chicken n’ dumplings or not?”

Jon was in the most conversational mood that Ed ever had the chance to engage with him. And it was rather entertaining. They discussed psychology and Ed couldn’t help but laugh watching Jon rant about Freud. It was rather nice, and Ed learned more about Jon than he thought he ever would. Of course, he and Jon were friends, to his view, but they often bicker amongst their jobs. Jon keeping an eye on Ed, though out of character, was very heartwarming.

Ed was proud to live with the knowledge he got Jon to laugh. Oh  _ god _ , his laugh was really nice, and Ed doesn’t really consider others’ laughs. Jonathan’s laugh was deep. You can actually hear a little slip of his southern accent, when he tried talking again, which Ed knew he had the accent, but never quite lingered on the topic. It made Edward’s chest feel warm, and it wasn’t just the chicken n‘ dumplings Jon had made. He found Jon interesting. Attractive? Perhaps, but in a mysterious way. Ed admired how intelligent Jon was and how efficient his work was. Jonathan was one of the few rogues he’d consider just as intelligent as Ed himself. He wouldn’t admit that, of course.

“You know you never answered me.”

“Hm?”

“Why do you have a stuffed fox.”

Ed tapped his fingers along his bowl.

“It’s a comfort item of mine. I don’t need him all the time, but he brings me comfort sometimes. Despite what others say, you’re never too old for stuffed animals.”

Jon nodded, seeming in thought. There was a cleanup around Ed’s bed and a quick temperature check. All seemed to be going well. Jon was getting up to head to bed before Ed stopped him.

“Could you just… stay here a little longer… ‘til I pass out?”

Jon’s brows rose in curiosity, but Ed was in no mood to talk about it, so Jon simply shrugged and sat back in the chair. Ed openly held the fox to his chest a bit as he laid back down, hoping sleep would take over soon. Their conversation was quieter now. Jon blinked sleepily in his seat, listening to Ed talk about physics or something along those lines. He closed his eyes for a moment. Ed’s mumbling slowly faded out, and he could faintly hear the rumbling fan Ed turned on. He almost fell asleep completely, before he felt something slide into his hand. Jon’s eyes snapped open and he glanced at his hand to see that Ed’s hand was on it. 

Ed was fast asleep, snoring. Jon couldn’t be sure whether or not the hand was there purposely, but he sighed and didn’t move it. He stared at Ed a bit longer, watching his side rise up and down as he snored away. Jon wouldn’t call it adorable. Maybe cute. It was amusing, perhaps. The corners of his lips flickered a moment, before Jon finally, and slowly, moved Ed’s hand back on the bed, and he got up to go to the spare room for the night. However, something stopped him in the doorway, and he glanced back at Ed. Shifting gears, he walked back to the chair and sat back down, folding his arms. After another few minutes, sleep overtook him once again.


End file.
